Mask Takes Care of Business
by Mal Masque
Summary: Nobody wants to deal with punishment from your boss. Especially if your boss is a sociopathic maniac who rules over the Army of Abominations with a fear-clenched iron fist. Another story in the Multiverse Mischief series, starring Mask, High Lord of the Army of the Abominations. Minor JoJo's Bizarre Adventure references within.


_**Multiverse Mischief**_

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 _Mask Takes Care of Business_

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If you were to ask anyone in service to any of the Universal Powers, "What is the last place you _ever_ want to be if you made a mistake?", chances are you're going to get similar answers under different names, but all can be summed up as 'The Boss' Office'. Nobody wants to be talked down to by their leaders simply because they made a mistake, but each of the Leaders of the three Universal Powers have rather unique tastes in how they handle the situation, relying on presence, tone, and décor of the office. Zedekiah Strong, Founder of the Inter-Dimensional Agency sits behind his desk, face concealing any emotion as he lets the sheer overwhelming atmosphere of his own power coupled by his dome-like museum of an office to display his power to his faulty or disobedient Agents and Officials. Sir Reginald, Grand Master of the Order of Purity, takes the fatherly approach, directly speaking to his Exemplars as an equal, his bright and pristine office welcoming to all, no matter if they were successful or failures. Mask, High Lord and Ruler of the Army of Abominations… All three categories are dominated by pure fear.

Anyone who so much as heard the name of the Army of Abominations knows they practice heavily in fear and control tactics, and Mask, despite his incredibly erratic and occasionally immature personality, uses these on his opponents and even members in his own ranks. Members of the Army, the second-tier group known as 'The Court', the Abominable Elite, even his own personal squad known as 'The Mischiefs' dread going anywhere _near_ Mask's office, especially if they're being directed towards him if they failed one of his orders. Usually, if someone is disciplined by Mask personally, a four-step process occurs that ends with the poor, broken and near-death fool being dragged out on their heels towards the intensive care ward. The entire experience is so enthralling, it could be classified as a pay-per-view television event. Mask cites each step as such: The Display, the Lecture, the Chance, and finally, the Punishment. Each a varying display of fear, progressively becoming more and more severe with each instance. Let us display an example of such an event.

"I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm so very dead." Mumbled an extremely panicked young man, nervously biting his nails as he was escorted down the gothic halls of Castle du Cauchemar to what could be equivalent of the Hangman's Noose. This is Landon Aurelio, a member of the Army's Court and expert on Supernatural Entities. Or he was, until it was discovered he was aiding fellow Courtier Dio Brando attempt an assassination on Mask which ultimately failed, then was caught trying to flee the scene of the crime. Everyone else already went to the proverbial chopping block, and Dio already faced his punishment (despite nobody having seen the Vampire for a full five days after his 'lecture'). Now, Landon was by no means a physically powerful person, dressed in a simple blue turtleneck sweater and long black slacks that rarely got scuffles on them, heck the only thing that stood out about the guy was his absurd choice of red corn-rows for hair, gothic eye-makeup giving him a skull-like face, and his incredible knowledge of Supernatural Entities, specifically spirits, so he rightly feared the rumors about how Mask viciously beats whoever fails him to near death. Luckily, he always had a certain trump card up his sleeve in case Mask tried anything.

"We have arrived, Mr. Aurelio." One of the black armored knights that had accompanied him said. True to their word, Landon stood in front of a pair of massive gothic doors that towered over fifty feet above his head, designed with various artistic symbols, as well as a pair of smiling white theater masks, the Army's iconic sigil displayed all over. Faintly within, Landon could make out the sound of music playing inside the Office. "Our Lord Mask is waiting for you inside." The knight shoved Landon towards the doors. "Don't keep him waiting." Swallowing heavily, Landon started towards the doors, nowhere near ready to face his would-be executioner.

As the knights began to slowly open the gargantuan doors, Landon realized that he had never actually _seen_ inside Mask's office before, despite having served the Army for well over five years. Of course the first, and hopefully only, time he'd see it was when he was being brought in for treason. Maybe it wasn't as horrific as everyone makes it out to be. The doors parted and Landon was immediately struck with the sensation of awe. The office was enormous, akin to a gothic cathedral with rafters that reached so high, Landon could have sworn he saw clouds swirling near the roof. The entire octogen-shaped room was cut between varying shades of gold, grey and red, all ornately designed by either some artistic genius or a deranged lunatic. The grey tiled floors were polished to a fine degree, the red walls were adorned with various tapestries of the Army's emblem, golden spiraling pillars lined the walls in a stylish and gorgeous fashion. The room was decorated with various artistic sculptures that range from incredibly beautiful to… well, to say it was something a hobo dug out of the trash would be an insult to the trash. Various black-iron braziers burned a blue supernatural flame that kept the room lit in true gothic splendor, flickering shadows of the fire casting haunting shadows that seemed to move of their own volition. At the very center was a desk, a black and ominous altar seemingly wrought of black steel, twisted into a wicked fashion resembling a metal beast, the tops decorated with various office implements and a holographic computer, and a large red chair that remained unusually absent. Landon glanced about the room, searching for his leader, finally laying his eyes upon him and all his unnerving aura… currently working on a painting.

"M-m-my lord, Mask?" Landon called out. Off to the side of the desk, standing in front of a partially completed painting, was a man dressed in a grey cotton jacket, grey jeans, and sporting a rather stylish French Beret atop his head. The man whirled about, revealing the smiling white theater mask that _everyone_ recognized instantly.

"Ah, Landon Aurelio," Mask cheerily said, Landon inwardly flinching as he saw how oddly animate the mask was. Nobody had ever seen Mask without it, even his own daughter, leaving many to spread rumors that that haunting mask _was his face_. "Let me just finish up this stem here and I'll be right with you." A steel chair spontaneously appeared in front of the desk, awaiting for someone to claim it as his seat. Tentatively, Landon walked up to the chair and sat himself down as Mask finished his piece of art. "You like this one? I call it 'Bowl of Fruit on Fire'. I was originally going to just paint one of my braziers, but then I got hungry and accidentally drew an apple, so I decided to roll with it." Finished with his work, Mask set his paintbrush aside and took his own seat at his desk, the two men locking eyes as business could properly begin. Landon paused to notice that Mask was wearing an odd-looking pendant around his neck, a golden chain clinging to a blue carved gemstone with a black cross embedded within. There was something about it that made Landon feel… off, for some reason. "Now… Let's talk, shall we?"

"My lord, I didn't want to be part of Lord Dio's plot!" Landon hastily defended. "He strong-armed me into helping him -"

"DON'T," Mask's voice suddenly boomed, gone was the smiling face and replaced with an irritated frown. "Interrupt me when I'm talking. You wait until I'm done talking, then you get to speak." He raised his gloved hands and began gesturing back and forth. "I talk, you talk, I talk, you talk, I talk, you talk. GOT IT?" Once he was certain Mask had finished his odd rant, Landon shakily nodded. Almost instantly, Mask's calm and more playful demeanor returned. "Alright, perfect. Now let's go over your charges…" Mask pulled a sheet of paper off of his desk, pantomimed putting on reading glasses, and began to recite the top of the paper. "Landon Aurelio, Army Courtier of Universe '81Z4RR3-4DV3N7UR3'…" He paused for a moment, grumbling about ' _pointless serial numbers_ ', then continued. "Currently charged with Treason by Association. Your crime is as follows: Collaborating with a treasonous fellow Courtier, Dio Brando of… huh, same universe as you. Small Multiverse, huh?" Landon nodded again. "Onwards… You assisted Mr. Brando in researching a poison that would tighten an average human's muscles to the point of paralysis, laced it to a single crossbow bolt, hired a hitman to attempt to shoot me with it while Mr. Brando challenged me to a Power Play… A plot that ultimately failed." He put the paper down and shot a smug look at Landon. "Am I correct, Mr. Aurelio?"

"Y-yes sir." Landon stammered. He was in the primary dining hall when it happened. Courtiers of the Army were the only people allowed to use the primary dining hall alongside Mask and his special squadron, and occasionally Courtiers would challenge Mask for a chance at taking over the Army during meals. It happened so often, it practically became dinner entertainment. Landon remembered how Dio had him hire that damn marksman to shoot Mask from the rafters of the dining hall when Dio announced his Power Play Challenge. It almost went off with a hitch… If that damn Child of Chaos hadn't stood up at just the right moment and was shot instead. Mask's terrifying daughter immediately went after the assassin, while the other Courtiers detained Dio and began searching for any accomplices. Landon was caught several hours after when the assassin broke under intense torture and gave away the names. And now here he was, on the receiving end of the lash.

"Good, so I don't have to repeat myself like I did to that stubborn vampire." Mask said, slightly relieved as he tossed the paper aside. "What a character, that Dio. I bring him back to life after he got his ass killed, make him one of my elite Courtiers, give him command of several powerful Stand Users and Supernatural Warriors, and yet he repays me by using underhanded schemes to try and knock me off my throne!" Mask stood up from his seat, visibly irritated if the frown and narrowed eye-holes were any indication. Despite that Landon stood a full foot taller than Mask, he still felt like no matter what, Mask was looking down upon him. "At least everyone else has the decency for One-On-One combat. Ragyo gets it! Caesar Clown gets it! Darth Erisen gets it! Overlord Zetta gets it! Hell, even Kars, the guy who keeps on boasting about how he's the Ultimate Life Form, still has the balls to face me like a man! But NO!" Mask slammed his hands on his desk, rattling the very foundations of the room itself. "He had to play the part of a coward and rope some random hitman who currently is missing all the fingers on his right hand, and a fellow, more loyal Courtier!"

Landon was terrified. There had been few instances where he had seen Mask get upset, maybe a little irritated, but never had he seen him this _furious_ before. He didn't even seem mad about the assassination attempt on his own life, but rather the lack of honor in the entire plot!

"If you want to take what you believe is rightfully yours, no matter how wrong you are," Mask continued his ranting, pacing back and forth behind his desk. "You get up, draw your sword, and fight for it face-to-face like a man! Ignoring the very basic principles of honor in battle is what separates us, the Universal Powers, from the lunatics and cowards that dot the Multiverse like _zits._ " Mask reached into his jacket and pulled out three haunting curved Egyptian daggers. "The Cult of the Void, the Angelic Legion, the damn Shard, without honor, they're nothing but vermin in need of **extermination!** " With a flick of his wrist, Mask threw the daggers at the wall, and with nigh perfect precision, embedded them in a marble statue of the Thinker. "Eliminate those without honor, unite everyone else under a single banner… That is what I stand for, Mr. Aurelio." He walked over and clapped a single hand on Landon's shoulder in a firm grip. "What _we,_ the Army of Abominations, stand for. Tell me, Mr. Aurelio, what is our creed?"

"' _Control is Absolute Survival'_ , sir." Landon automatically responded. That line, that simple mantra, has been ingrained in the minds of every single member of the Army of Abominations, the philosophy for which the Universal Power crusades to achieve. It's written above every doorway in Castle du Cauchemar, woven into the collar of every uniform, spray-painted under the name of every ship, the words themselves even (allegedly) tattooed on the back of Mask's neck (nobody has ever seen, due to the collar of Mask's jacket obscuring everything). These words _were_ the Army.

"Yes, it is." Mask said, releasing his grip. "Once everything is under a single banner, my banner," He slammed his hand upon his desk again. "OUR banner… We all will be on common ground." Mask turned around, standing in front of his desk with a sly look on his face. "Which is why I'm giving you a similar treatment to how I handled Dio."

"E-excuse me?" Landon stammered. "But Dio's the one who came up with the plan and wanted to take over!"

"And you were one of his helpers in the whole matter." Mask leaned back on his desk, the brim of his hat casting a shadow that covered his eyes. "Dio's already being punished as we speak, but your fate has yet to be decided. I'm a fair man, Mr. Aurelio, and I believe in equal treatment. So, even though you were only an accessory to Dio's little hissy fit, I still need to punish you similarly." He stood up with his arms spread wide. "Here's what we do: You try and fight for your freedom." Landon couldn't believe his ears. Mask, the man who dominated the largest prison in existence and ruled over one of the strongest Universal Powers in the entire Multiverse, was challenging him to a fight.

"You… can't be serious, sir." Landon said, twiddling his thumbs.

"Usually, I'm not." Mask teased, wiggling his forefinger. "But right now, I'm not. Basically, it goes like this: If you land three hits on me, using whatever you manage, I'll let you go. However…" The look on his mask turned deadly serious, an incredibly haunting expression that made Landon shake in his boots. "I land three hits on you, not only will it hurt like hell, but you spend four days inside the Penance Chambers." The smile returned, somehow even more terrifying than the serious look. "Get the picture, Mr. Aurelio?" Landon nodded, while Mask clapped his hands and chuckled. "Splendid! I'll even let you have the first move."

"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" Landon asked, shifting his feet into a combat stance. "Even prior to my enlisting with the Army, I never lost a single fight."

"And if I'm correct," Mask added, putting a thumb on that weird necklace of his. "Nobody's even seen you fight, you're a complete mystery." He laughed, the smile on his mask forming into a jack-o-lantern's grin. "I love surprises when it comes to fights. So come at me with all your might!" Landon internally shrugged. This would end quickly, then.

"Your funeral." He simply said. With a flick of his thumb, a ring on Landon's hand ejected a small needle, which he then used to jab right into his palm. Blood spurted from the wound, the needle driving deep into the skin, Landon felt intense pain well up within. Perfect. With a wave of his hand, blood flew into the air in large gobs, but halted in a barrier in front of him. " _Straight Razor Cabaret!_ " The blood swirled about, condensing into a solid mass that slowly molded itself into a large torso. Finally, an entity appeared, a muscular humanoid upper torso, a spiked mask concealing its entire head and sharp needles replacing its fingers, floating a few feet away from Landon.

"Well now, Mr. Aurelio!" Mask whistled, genuinely surprised. "I didn't realize you were a Stand User! No wonder Dio recruited you to his aid." Taking the compliment, Landon held his palm open, allowing a thin line of blood to flow directly towards the construct.

"He needed someone who functioned well under pressure," Landon explained. "He got me because I'm one of the few Stand Users the Army has. My Stand, Straight Razor Cabaret, is a construct that becomes more powerful from the amount of pain I feel." The Stand in question flexed its needle-like fingers, seemingly elongating them with every movement. "And as I'm sure you're aware, only a Stand can harm a Stand." Landon pointed his hands at Mask, the Stand mirroring its User perfectly. "So I guess I win." The needle fingers shot forward with the speed of bullets right out of the gun, all on a direct collision course with Mask, who remained rooted to his spot. However, the instant the needle-fingers came inches away from Mask, they halted in midair as Landon felt something hard squeezing his fingers. "Wait, what?!"

"Clever trick hiding this from everyone, Mr. Aurelio." Mask said. "Even with the number of supernatural members of my Army who are capable of seeing Stands, you kept this secret from everyone without even myself knowing!" Mask let out a chilling laugh, an odd shimmering appearing behind him. "But you made one fatal mistake…" For a moment, Landon could've sworn he saw Mask's eyes _glow_. "You forget I'm always one step ahead." Suddenly, a being materialized behind Mask, a terrifying looking pale figure with lanky arms and legs that seemed to stretch beyond four feet, bandages covering only portions of its body, spindly-yet powerful fingers that gripped Straight Razor's own, and a head that was simply a large mouth filled with three rows of sharp teeth, breathing heavily. If anyone were to describe how Landon was feeling right now, it'd best be summed up as "in dire need of yellow pants".

"You're… You're a Stand User too?!" Landon exclaimed, struggling to yank his Stand's fingers free of the vice grip he was in.

Mask simply laughed, the Stand doing the same. "Not exactly. I knew you were a supernatural expert, so I figured you'd have something up your sleeve that I wouldn't know about it, so…" He idly fiddled with the bluish pendant around his neck. "I decided to give this little toy the R&D Lab came up with a field test." Mask's nightmarish Stand began to climb up the arm of Straight Razor, clinging to it like a monkey on a tree branch. "This was invented to combat magic users and supernatural specialists that the Army lacks, a sort of magic mirror that allows whoever wears it to fight the opponent on equal footing. I call it a Counter Collar."

"So what you're saying…" Landon slowly pieced it all together. "Is that thing _gave you a Stand_ just to fight me?!"

"Yep!" Mask confirmed. "And it'll come out again if I'm ever fighting another Stand User, so this was a good field test." Mask carefully eyed his Stand up and down, taking in every nightmarish detail of the thing. "Ugly bastard, isn't he? Stands are supposed to be a manifestation of internal will and stuff, right?" Landon nodded slowly as Mask's Stand continued crawling along Straight Razor. "Neat, guess my internal will is like something Del Torro came up with after writing _The Thing_ on peyote. I'll call it Heathen." The Stand, Heathen, seemingly hissed in approval. "It likes it… Or does it like it because I like it? Stands are confusing…" Landon began to whimper as Heathen's wide mouth opened over Straight Razor's still head. "And its powers… Oh, I should internally know the powers! Heh heh heh…" Mask turned around, a nightmarish smile on his face. "Well, let me show you, Aurelio." Heathen took a deep breath and exhumed a noxious green cloud from its mouth right in Straight Razor's face. Landon felt like his eyes were on fire, yet something was forcing them open and he was forced to endure the pain. Once the pain began to fade out, Landon's vision became partially blurred as he saw that everything had horrifically changed. Mask's already haunting office had melted away into a fiery hell-scape that spanned as far as they eye could see, Straight Razor had melted away into a discernable blob of red, Heathen had apparently _multiplied itself_ and now the area was covered in the lanky demonic beings, breathing and wheezing, but worst of all was Mask himself, who had turned into an embodiment of Death itself, the mask he wore warped into something made of pure nightmares, moving steadily closer and closer as his dark form grew larger and larger. All Landon could do was stare, every fiber of his body locked in place by the sheer overwhelming fear overriding his senses, watching on as the monstrous visage his leader has become stalked ever closer, drawing a gargantuan shining blade.

"One, two, and three." Mask cheerily said, using his knife to carve three thin lines vertically down Landon's face. "Alright, game over." And just like that, everything was back to normal: The office was still creepy, the Heathen duplicates vanished, even Mask was back to looking like normal. As Straight Razor vanished, Landon collapsed on the ground and examined his bleeding forehead.

"What… what the actual hell?!" Landon exclaimed, trying to wipe the blood from his face.

"Yeah, so Heathen basically can make people suffer from extreme fear hallucinations." Mask casually explained, watching as his own Stand vanished into nothing. "Probably made me look like your worst nightmare, paralyzed you with fear to the point you couldn't even move. Fun, huh?!" Landon was completely speechless. His mind was still trying to process what had happened, and the blood leaking into his eyes was starting to sting. "Hello? Landon? You still with us?" Mask waved his hand in front of Landon's face, but the prone Stand User simply sat there, gazing off into space. "Huh, the experience must've been too much for his weak mind to handle. Oh well." Mask tossed his knife aside and snapped his fingers, the two knights standing outside the doors appearing with weapons in hand. "Take Mr. Aurelio to the Intensive Psychological Ward to see if Doctor Loboto can put his brain back together. I need every able bodied soldier ready for this upcoming assault on those Darkness guys Zed keeps on ranting and whining about." The knights nodded, picking Landon up by his arms and dragging him out of the room, hopefully never bringing him back there ever again. Once the doors behind him sealed, Mask whistled a song to himself and sat down on his chair. "Four-step process. Works every time…" Carelessly thumbing the Counter Collar around his neck, an idea formulated in Mask's sick and twisted little head. Quickly working with his deft fingers, Mask tapped away a number on his phone and made one last extremely important appointment for the day as a devilish smile appeared on his face. "Yes, Nastasia, could you send a message to James, the Child of Chaos? Tell him I want to test something the lab boys came up with…"

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 _Author's Note: Remember when I said the next update would be one of my actual stories? Well, something happened involving a miss-click and a file getting deleted, and now I gotta start over from scratch on a new chapter of "Pimpin' Peace & Perversion", "IDA Ultimate Tournament", AND the long awaited next installment of "Project FREAK". Hate to disappoint, but it might be a while before another special update comes out. Until then… Another Multiverse Mischief One-Shot. Enjoy!_

 _~Mal Masque_

 _P.S. Landon Aurelio and his Stand, Straight Razor Cabaret, are in reference to Aurelio Voltaire, a comedic/gothic musician you'd probably recognize for his songs in the animated show "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy", and Mask's stand is a reference to the band "Lucid Dementia". No idea if I'm going to keep Landon around as a permament character, but the Counter Collars will_ definitely _be appearing frequently._


End file.
